


supervision

by iniquiticity



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Adventures in Pronoun Usage, Fluff, Local Alien Blob Takes Cares of Host, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: no matter how tired eddie is, they still know they're watched.





	supervision

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place like years after the movie, or something. just rot your teeth out on the fluff ok? also, i didn't capitalize any letters because i wrote this in a half-asleep daze at 1am. 
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr at [iniquiticity](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com), or on twitter at [@picklesnake](https://twitter.com/picklesnake).

they're at the top of that building with the freaky gargoyles on it in downtown. eddie is tired. so tired that they've forgotten to be afraid of heights, honestly. so tired that venom's just carrying them along, wrapping this - his body - in this warm container while they indulge their fondness for heights. strange that you could feel so comfortable and so safe and so easy with someone (something) else. eddie's had girlfriends and boyfriends but even with them there was the worry he wasn't enough or something. with venom there's no worry. with venom they're enough. venom will carry them along and protect them even in a bitter san francisco wind. 

it's warm and easy and eddie dozes. venom takes them through the worse neighborhoods and keeps an eye on young women going home late at night and the drug stores eddie frequents. when they're lucky someone upsets those places. 

"v," eddie says, half-asleep. they're on a roof in twin peaks now, looking down over the san francisco bay. it's surprisingly clear and the lights of the bay bridge wink at them. 

eddie could just think the words to them. they do sometimes, when they need to be subtle. but eddie's never quite kicked the habit of talking, and in some way talking assures them that venom is not just them but also their other. real speech has always come first to humans, they're pretty sure. 

Of course they don't have to ask for acknowledgement, really; they could just start with whatever question they had. but they like it, the acknowledgement. that venom has to acknowledge they're listening, they're paying attention. something about the constant reassurance. 

**_what?_** venom asks. 

"hi," they said. they let their body flop back into the black ink of venom. venom holds them, tender as could be. 

_**loser,**_ venom says, but they say it with the complete affection eddie can feel. words are kind of ridiculous between them, honestly. eddie can feel every hum of venom's thoughts, can watch the trace of his instincts be compressed into intelligence, and then watch the intelligence generate words, thoughts, feelings. the first time they felt the massive intensity of venom's care for him -- they had not expected it. 

how could you really be a he, when your whole self was irreparably tangled in some other thing? for a while they'd thought it was ridiculous venom said _they_ when he meant _I_ , and sometimes venom said _they_ and they'd meant _eddie_. but now it was obvious that venom had been right all along. 

_**was that really it?**_ , venom asks, and eddie can feel the eyeroll. 

_thanks for carrying us_ , eddie adds, because talking is hard and they could do less work if they tried. venom rumbles back at them, because eddie knows venom can feel all his lazy, exhausted affection. it's the same way they feel waking up at 1pm after a party and all eddie can do is raise their hand and pet venom's head materializing under him. 

**_dead weight,_** venom says, but eddie feels the rolling heat of their mixed adoration, where venom's fondness meets his and reflects its and emphasizes it. for a couple of moments they just stay there, in that the swirl of their feelings. it was too much for them, for a while. now it's the only thing that matters. 

"going home soon?" they ask. venom's only covering them loosely now; they're just laying on a roof, no bonus grip required. venom's half-covering him in abstract patterns, which seems to be the default. he has one large white eye and one small green eye; he has fingers and claw; he has shoes and talons; his teeth are both for ripping and for grinding. venom streaks in abstract patterns across his clothes and his skin, like they're not trying to look like anything. just being there. just having them. 

**_we need to sleep_** , venom says. they've slept during these adventures but the sleep isn't particularly restful; sometimes they need to but they don't right now. plus they know with complete confidence that venom likes cuddling and they feel pretty damn good about it too. 

they're just too tired to say _let's go home,_ but of course they think it, and of course there are no hidden thoughts, so they turn and bound back down twin peaks, over roofs, trying to be more careful with the delicate carvings of the old buildings. they left a window open in the apartment, and they close it behind them. 

venom brushes their teeth and selects more sleep-ready clothes. venom takes them to bed, lays them tenderly down on the mattress and pulls the blankets on even though they don't need them. venom used to be offended that they brushed their teeth and had blankets when venom could do those things for him; they're not anymore. 

even when they're exhausted it takes them a long time to fall asleep. it used to be worse before it was them; sometimes eddie would lay in bed for hours listening to his mind click away and refusing to quiet.  now, a mix of their joined bodies, the easy reassurance of the other unguarded, just being together, being one, being them. the sublime comfort of knowing they _were_ them, that the other was there, that the other held them and provided for them and knew, without a whiff of a doubt, that this _them_ was how they should be. 

**_eddie,_** venom says. 

eddie grunts an acknowledgement. venom used to not check to see if they were listening. they do now. something about constant reassurances. 

**_we could sing?_ **

eddie nods. they don't actually sing. they do something with brain chemicals and their fusion and being so closely linked and what it sounds like is humming all the way from the base of their spine all the way up to the crown of their head. it's rhythmic and rocking and tender. you know how some people say the sound of the ocean makes them fall asleep? whatever that is, this is it for them. 

they used to not ask, even though it's obvious. the closer they've gotten it's more important to ask. eddie didn't even explain it, somehow; they knew. they felt the hum of synapses and knew what it all meant. eddie, of course, has asked what they should have for almost every meal of every day for possibly their entire joining. 

eddie learned later that venom has something like rest, like those birds that sleep on one foot. they don't sleep while eddie sleeps, though. even though eddie has talked about how this is the whole point of a house and obviously no one would get close enough, venom is not leaving their unconscious body unprotected. it has been years. eventually they got used to being watched when they slept. it was worse when venom had questions about it, waking them up in the middle of the night to ask about REM cycles, like they knew what the fuck any of it was.

so when eddie starts to wake up, groggy and slow and the world sliding only lazily into focus - that sense that their limbs are still there and they are covered in blankets. there, next to the limbs, is their other. maybe just as important as the limbs. the limbs have carried them through a lot, after all. so's the other. 

they rub their face. 

**_good morning, eddie._ **

 


End file.
